Curiosity Part Two

My mom had found in the want ads an opening for a desk clerk for an office.  An office to me would obviously be full of boring people in suits.  These people wore suits but I never saw them long enough to learn if they were in fact the uninteresting bunch I expected.  Men and women, old and young, walked through the doors everyday never saying so much as hello.  One would almost begin to wonder whether it was the ploy of some hidden camera show.  But as time went on, that idea sputtered and died.  There were no words on the building front and no cards or brochures in sight.  I received a direct deposit into my bank account every two weeks from a numbered, nameless account.

            Everyday I would get home at 5:30 and wonder what I did that day.  Whose packages did I sign for?  What filled the little brown boxes marked “fragile”?  Who sent the anonymous manila envelopes I so often accepted?  I would sit for hours behind that desk wondering, trying to crack the code of who I worked for.  I no longer suspected foul play, but that was only because I felt it would have happened by now, whatever it was.  I toyed for several days on the idea that it might be an underground… something.  I wasn’t sure what it would be, actually.  They certainly had something to hide or else they would have a name.  It’s a good thing I didn’t have to answer any phones because I wouldn’t know what to say.  I didn’t even know a single name of the many people who traipsed passed me everyday.  There was a bathroom just off the lobby so I never walked more than a few feet from my station.  The only sounds I heard were the birds outside and the occasional door close.  But even then, the walls were so well insulated I’d wondered if a T-Rex could crash through their sound barrier.